


Everything Looks Worse in Black and White

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6637885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While helping C-3PO with a minor repair, Luke finds his own past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Looks Worse in Black and White

**Author's Note:**

  * For [possibilityleft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/gifts).



It's late. Ben has finally fallen asleep, once again passed out on the sofa while clinging to Chewbacca like a safety blanket. Ever since they moved to this new world, leaving his crib behind and giving him his own room with his own big boy bed, he hasn't wanted anything to do with either. It's cute now but Luke's not sure what they're going to do when he gets older. He can't sleep on the sofa with his furry Wookiee uncle for the rest of his life. Probably.

"Excuse me, Master Luke," says Threepio in the hushed voice he's learned these past two years. "I understand it's late but I do have an issue."

Luke wipes the sleep from his face with a quick gesture. Leia and Han have gone back to their room, and he's longingly thinking of the nice, soft bed in his. "Sure, Threepio. What's wrong?"

"The servos in my neck have been malfunctioning this evening." He twists slightly to show the problem. Luke recalls that a certain toddler spent the afternoon hanging on to the droid and demanding rides until Leia told him that Threepio needed to help Mommy with something.

"I'll take a look. Why don't we go into the workroom?" They won't be as noisy in there, and Artoo can offer a clamp if they need help. Threepio gratefully follows him to the other side of the house they're all sharing. Luke's room is here, next to where the droids spend their evenings recharging. Artoo, already fed up with the new nightly routine, has plugged himself in and chirps a greeting as they enter.

"Let's take a look." Threepio sits and Luke opens up the panel on his neck. "You're right. There's a bent rotor in here." With a quick hand, Luke reaches in and removes the bolts holding it in place. Behind the rotor, he spies something he's never seen before: a loose chip just sitting there. It's wedged in between two other servos. "This must have come loose, too."

Luke sets the chip down and takes a look at the rotor. "I can fix this or we can replace it. I can go pick up the part tomorrow."

Threepio sits stiffly. "A replacement would be fine. I can do without for the night." Knowing him, he'll whine a little later, but he wouldn't be himself if he didn't.

"Any idea where this goes?" Luke shows him the chip. The cover is older and dulled than most of the parts they usually work with.

Artoo whistles low as Threepio holds it up. "What do you mean, memory chip? All my memory chips are fine."

Artoo beeps. Luke frowns. "Why would someone wipe Threepio's memory?"

The little droid is silent, even when Threepio smacks him softly on his dome. Luke takes the chip back. "I can reinstall it. Are you sure you want those memories back?"

"I can't imagine what I could have forgotten. Yes, please reinstall it."

Artoo makes another noise, but Luke can't interpret it and apparently neither can Threepio. Luke gives Artoo a friendly pat. "I'm sure it'll be fine." He opens another panel, this one inside Threepio's smooth, golden head. There aren't any open slots, and Luke has to tinker a bit to jump two chips together before he has a spot. "If you have any problems, say so or wave your arm, and I'll take it out again." The chip snaps into place.

Threepio's eyes glow for a moment, an eerie sight in the little workroom. "Thank you, Master Luke. I am now processing the files." Luke closes the head and neck panels on his friend, and stands back, keeping an eye for a waving arm. There's a remote chance this is some sort of trap, although leaving a chip inside a droid for chance discovery would have been less difficult to arrange than just installing a virus or worm directly.

"Oh," Threepio says after a moment, and he looks at Artoo. "You might have told me."

Luke fights back his yawn. It really is getting late. Threepio probably just downloaded the minutes from hundreds of old Senate meetings when he worked for Leia's father. Fascinating from a history perspective but not more interesting than sleep sounds right now. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Chancellor, we need to discuss the threat of the Separatists." Threepio is speaking, but it's a woman's voice. Senate minutes. Old Senate minutes, because the Separatists were from back in the days of the Clone Wars. "My dear, I assure you, we are in no danger." Luke knows that second voice. He still has nightmares about the Emperor's cruel chuckle, still feels the energy cascading through his body.

Luke takes a chair, watching his friend twitch as he processes more. Other voices speak, mostly strangers. He hears Master Yoda and a voice he's sure belonged to Obi-Wan. It's like listening to history. Artoo makes a long, mournful whistle, telling his friend to check his earliest memories.

Threepio startles. "Oh dear."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Master Luke, I have just accessed the memories of my maker. I believe I know why my memory was wiped. I was designed and constructed by young Master Anakin Skywalker." Threepio sounds frightened. Luke stops breathing. "I was intended to be a helper for his mother. After her death, he presented me as a gift to his wife. I served her for some years before," sorrow fills his voice, "she also perished."

"You knew them both?"

"Yes. I forgot."

"You were made to forget. It's all right." He places a gentle hand on Threepio's shoulder. Clearly his friend is having trouble with the sudden revelation he was created by Darth Vader. Luke can sympathize. They can talk through things the same way he talked Leia through her own breakdown when everything hit her.

Artoo beeps again. Luke and Threepio stare at him. "You knew," Luke says, realizing. A few things come to mind, not least the wish Artoo might have said something years ago, say before the time Luke inadvertently asked his twin out on a date. She said no, but that was more due to a problem at the time. Which, come to think of it, Artoo was responsible for.

Luke sighs.

Threepio says in a woman's voice, the same he spoke in before: "We must be careful. Spies are everywhere."

It's her. Luke has never heard his mother's voice before tonight. So many records of that time have been destroyed, and he only learned her name last year. His droids, his friends, spoke with her and worked with her. They knew Luke's father before he went to the dark side. For years. He already considers the two of them part of his family. This makes them his quirky, metallic brothers.

"How many more memories do you have now?"

"Approximately fifteen years."

Luke is having trouble breathing again. Fifteen years of stories he's never heard and always longed to know. "Threepio, I want to ask a favor of you."

"Of course."

"When you've processed through the new data, I'd like you to tell as many stories as you can remember. You're a wonderful storyteller."

"Will Mistress Leia also want to listen?"

"I'm sure she will, but these aren't for me. I'd like you to tell Ben. I want him to know where he comes from. It's something his mother and I never had. I can't think of a greater gift for you to give him than the memories of his grandparents."

"I'll do it in the morning when he wakes."

"Thank you. And in the meantime, I'll pick up that new rotor. Deal?"

"Yes."


End file.
